


Something In The Air

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:09:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: A Christmas fic based on @cryptidneed's cute drawing of M&S on an airbed.





	Something In The Air

2.01am 25 December

There were no stockings over the mantel. But there were socks on the crates in front of the heater. A pair of white sports socks with grey heels and toes. The man smiled to himself as he shut the door. Gifts had already been exchanged…

5pm 24 December

The case had taken an unexpected turn. Mulder’s insistence that the mysterious disappearance of two pairs of identical twins from Nazareth PA was due to unnatural forces turned out to be erroneous. At about 4pm, the twins had arrived back in town, safe and sound. The collective cry of ‘where have you been?’ was answered by the raising of clasped left hands, each bearing a bright gold wedding band.

“Eloping is about as far away from alien abduction you can get,” Scully said, offering a smile she hoped was more sympathetic than cynical. He’d seemed more desperate than usual for her to believe his theories. He touched her arm, her back, her shoulder, even brushed her hair away from her face, and nearly called her Dana. She wasn’t injured. She wasn’t recently bereaved. His actions left her confused. And breathless. But maybe that was just the near zero air temperature.

“I never said it was aliens.” His tone was on the edge of bewildered. And to be fair, there had been no clue that the twins had been romantically involved. “I have cases on file of other twin abductions. I thought it was worth investigating.”

Don’t do the puppy dog eyes, she thought. She hated when he did that. It sparked something deep inside her, unfurling some kind of strange emotion that was definitely not maternal. She shifted on her toes, trying to keep them warm. Hmmm, warm. She thought about her bath, the new ginger and lemongrass bath oil she’d picked up at the market. She thought of him in the water…no. She thought of the gifts she still had to wrap. Calls to make. Mulder grunted. She wondered about what his skin would…no. They could be home in a few hours. Then he looked like he might cry. He sniffed. Maybe it was just the cold. They should go home. She was about to say it, but he was rooted to the spot. She lifted a hand and laid it on his arm. It was tense under her touch.

“Ready to go, Mulder?”

“Where?” His voice cracked.

“Home,” she said, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She looked around at the dispersing crowd. Two newlywed couples would be wrapped in each others’ arms for Christmas. Other couples held hands, others stood close. All these people would be excited to be heading home for Christmas, for the celebrations as one year faded and another fresh, new year began. But, she and Mulder…they stood close, they’d held hands, they’d nearly kissed, he’d all but declared his love for her in his doorway, in his own kind of Mulder way. But still they were not categorised or easily referenced. What would the end of the year bring them? 364 more days of unidentified feelings to negotiate until the next period of enforced happiness.

She looked at her watch. At least they hadn’t shot each other this time. “Shit,” she said softly, as the words hit her. Mulder’s Grinch act was rubbing off. It wouldn’t do. She had to think of something. She couldn’t bear another year of this…inertia.

They headed towards the rental car, fog climbing the glass of the windshield. She sucked in a breath and tried for light and breezy. “Well, if you don’t want to head home, what does one do in Nazareth on a cold winter’s afternoon?” His gave her a strange look and strode towards the car. She had to half-run to keep up with him. “We could take the Lariat for a spin around the speedway. I hear this is the home of Mario Andretti. She reached out to touch his elbow. “Surely you’ve always wanted to put the pedal to the metal?” 

“Why would you think that?” he said, pulling out the keys. “Because I’m the big macho man?” He opened the door and slunk inside, coat billowing behind him.

Right, she thought. It’s like that. Maybe inertia was the preferred state for their two selves.

“Okaaaay,” she said, sliding in the passenger seat. “How about something more musical? Did you know that Nazareth is the home to the Martin guitar company? Surely, Elvis owned one or two of those?”

His lips popped open and his head tilted towards her. She was certain he was going to smile. That seedling of hope stretched out in her gut. But instead, he turned the key in the ignition and set the heaters to demist. She watched the fog disappear in loops and waves. Home then.

He turned on the radio and Johnny Mathis’ smooth, Christmas vocals filled the car. She chuffed at the irony of location and date, certain it would raise that ghost of a smile from the dead. Instead, he put the car in drive and gripped the steering wheel like the reins of a runaway horse.

A few miles into the journey and she had to speak. The radio’s incessant festiveness was crushing her spirit. Or maybe it was his perpetual silence. She switched off the music.

“Look, Mulder. I don’t doubt you had nothing but good intentions on this case, but you seem so…”

He swung round to her. His face sharp in the low light. “So what, Scully? You think I enjoy being humiliated by local law enforcement? Did you hear the sheriff and his deputies?”

She had. “The three wise men?”

He sniffed. “More like a-three ring circus. They suggested that I only came here so I could…”

“Could what?” He gave her a look.

“One of them offered me his barn as a manger and said miracle conceptions aside, Nazareth had a highly unusual rate of success with courtships.”

“Oh,” she said. Courtships. How quaint.

“He suggested that the twins had fallen under the town’s spell in double quick time. That explained why nobody knew what was happening. Apparently, there’s something in the air here.” He glanced at her. “And you think my theories are wild.”

He crunched down on his teeth, switched on the window wipers and the whirr caught her attention. Snowflakes battered the screen, fading to watery droplets. She sighed with the rhythm of the blades and sunk into the seat. “Storm’s building quicker than expected.”

He drove onwards into the whiteness. She was dozing when the tyres started to slip. Mulder cursed and pumped the brakes but the car skidded and twisted until it landed sideways in a shallow ditch, butted against the gnarly trunk of a towering pine.

“Are you okay, Scully?” His touch against her shoulder was welcome in the frosty silence. No matter their disagreements, he always reacted instantly against threats to her physical safety.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the dramatic burst of steam from the engine suggested the car was DOA.

Outside, the snow pelted and banked up furiously against the windscreen. The cracked glass let the crisp air in. Neither phone had reception. Mulder tapped the steering wheel and let out a sigh as long as the last gasp from the car’s engine.

“There was a place a way back,” she said.

He looked at her feet. Heeled pumps.

“At least I’m wearing a pant suit,” she said, trying to lift his bruised spirits. She circled his wrist with her fingers. “Honestly, Mulder. I’ll be fine. We can’t stay here. They might have a landline that still works.”

The walk was perilous as the storm unleashed more snow than a Swiss ski resort. Her face turned numb, her pace slowed as she had to lift each leg higher and higher just to walk. Ice slipped inside her shoes and up the legs of her pants. Mulder’s coat was flying in front of her. It took him a while to realise she was no longer by his side. He stopped and turned, the wind pushing the sides of coat out so that in the white-out, he stood, triangular, just like a Christmas tree.

He stuck out an elbow which she gratefully grabbed and together they pushed through.

“Where’s a donkey when you need one?” she yelled over the wind.

That got a chuckle out of him, his stubbled jaw flecked with shining snowflakes.

“Have you paid your taxes this year, Scully?”

As she laughed her mouth filled with snow. “Let’s hope there’s room at the inn.” A gust of wind howled and drove more snow at them. Mulder pulled her closer.

“Even the deputy’s barn would be better than this,” he said, just as the property’s gated entrance appeared from the brightness. The Star, said the cursive on the plaque. He shook his head and looked down at her. “You’re not pregnant are you, Scully?”

They both froze. Then his face fell, eyes closing, breath leaving his body so that he crumpled. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Scully.”

“Hey,” she said, looping her arm through his, as much to quell her own mortification as his. He was shivering and she had no doubt it was not all to do with the weather. His face bent towards her as they walked on. His nose was almost pressed against her cheek and his breath warmed her chin. She tilted her face slightly and whispered. “I’m not even a virgin.”

The door pulled back and a giant man stood in the frame, leaning on a wooden stick. His face was round and smooth, his hair snow-white, along with his thick, fuzzy beard. She looked at Mulder, who was clearly thinking the same thing. One red suit away from…

“Are you looking for a place to stay, because….”

“There’s no room at the inn?” Mulder added, half-laughing at the ridiculousness of their predicament.

The man shrugged and tapped the cane. “We don’t even have a manger. The animals round here wander free.”

“Are there any other properties nearby?” Scully asked.

“No, no…nope,” he said, rubbing his belly.

“Do you have a phone?” Mulder said.

“No, no…nope,” he said, pulling on his beard.

“Can we at least come in and get warm and dry?” Scully said, rubbing her hands together.

Inside, a fire roared in the hearth releasing a warm spicy scent into the air. Decorated stockings hung over the mantel. There were deer heads on the walls, stuffed animals on the shelves. Paintings of stock in fields and forests. The man returned with two glasses of hot mulled wine.

“We do have a small room at the end of the hall, more of a storage space really. And an airbed. It’s not much…”

“We’ll take it,” they both said. Scully smiled up at Mulder, who seemed to be visibly softening. Defrosting, she thought, as they followed the man down the narrow passage.

The room was tiny but it was dry. She hung their coats in the small closet. Mulder blew up the mattress and stood it against a wall. There were two crates under the window, with blankets for seats. Outside, the snow was thickening. The roof creaked with the wind. The man provided extra bed linin, a jug of mulled wine and a tray of sandwiches. And a heater.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. I hope you’ll at least be comfortable.” His eyes sparkled almost unnaturally as he dipped his head. “And may I take this opportunity to wish you season’s greetings.” He closed the door and they heard him laughing merrily as he walked away.

She pulled off her shoes and stockings and put the heater on high. Mulder toed off his shoes.

“Socks?” she said, looking at his feet.

“They’re surprisingly dry,” he said. Then he rushed out an apology that was more of a breath than a sentence.

She sat on one of the crates. “Sorry for what?”

“For bringing you here. On Christmas Eve.”

“I came, didn’t I? I mean, I do know how to say no, Mulder.” She did, didn’t she?

“I mean, last year was the haunted house thing and now this…I swear this wasn’t the same thing. This…this was a case and I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that, Mulder.”

“I’m sorry for still being self-righteous and narcissistic. Egotistical. A social maladjust with a tendency towards obsessive-compulsive workaholism.” He fitted beside her on the same crate and their thighs pressed together. He heaved out a huge sigh. “And I’m sorry that you have to spend Christmas Eve on an airbed in a broom cupboard in a weird property run by St Nick’s younger brother.”

She let her hand land on his knee, squeezing gently. There was something about these admissions that she found heart-warming, reaffirming. Mulder may be selfish, compulsive, grouchy sometimes but he was good at confessions.

“If we’re acknowledging our faults, then I apologise for sometimes being overly sceptical. I know it’s my job to provide reports, but I sometimes go into a case with the blinkers already on. And I concede that I found this case somewhat…lacking in compelling detail.”

“So why did you come?” They were face to face, so close she felt her breasts brushing his shirt front.

Why had she come? To a town called Nazareth, the day before Christmas. With a man who owned her heart, despite their inability to talk about their feelings. But that was the thing about this time of the year. Hope grew from the strangest places. An overcrowded inn in the Middle East thousands of years ago planted that seed.

“I came because I wanted to.”

“To prove me wrong?”

“No, Mulder. I came because I wanted to spend the time with you.”

His lips opened and there was something brighter in his eyes. She could practically taste his lips on hers and her fingers flexed on his thigh. She inhaled sharply, ready.

“You take the mattress. I’ll sleep here.”

She let out the disappointment, along with her breath.

“No, Mulder. We can share.”

“We can’t, Scully.”

She quirked her head. “What do you mean?”

“That’s the thing, you see. The reason why I brought you here, it started out with…something.” He stood up and pushed the airbed to the centre of the room. “What I mean is, I started out with every intention of asking…” He took the pile of linen and found a sheet. “Of seeing if you…” He knelt down and tucked the sheet over the edges of the bed. “To test the boundaries of our…partnership.”

“And when you say partnership, you mean…?” She knelt next to him, helping him smooth the flannelette crinkles.

He nodded, but wouldn’t look at her. “I was baiting you, I guess. Seeing how far you’d go and then when the twins turned up, I could see the way you looked at me and I knew I’d screwed up and I felt like a prize asshole. The sheriff and the deputies were right. I’m an asshole who continually runs you around the country doing stupid things. The way you looked at me, Scully. Back in the town. And the people. They thought I was mad. I am mad. In both senses of the word. I deserve every ounce of your anger and your pity.” 

She took the blankets and laid them over the bed. “You’ve got it all backwards, Mulder.” She sat on her haunches. “I wasn’t looking at you with anger or pity. And the others can think what they like. I wanted to be there. It’s my job. I’m your partner.” Her fingers coiled around his and she shuffled closer to him. “Perhaps I’m more than that. Perhaps that’s what I came to find out too. In a town called Nazareth, on Christmas Eve. With you, Mulder. I came to be with you. Perhaps, we’re both looking for a miracle?”

He looked at her with an expression that could only be described as relief. Then something deeper crossed his eyes. A buzz started in her veins. She cleared her throat.

“And despite what you believe, alien lifeforms or paranormal activity, let me tell you that meteorological forecasting is the biggest and most misunderstood phenomena of all time. This snowstorm came out of nowhere.”

“At least it wasn’t a swarm of bees.” His chest rose and fell and finally he bent to kiss her. His lips were warm and wet and as soft and gentle as she had imagined. Whatever bitter feelings he had about himself, the taste of him was nothing but sweet and full of hope. His arms felt right around her waist, his hands falling to the swell of her ass but holding her with reverence.

He laid next to her on the mattress and it sunk under their joint weight. But it didn’t matter. In fact, it just added a new dimension to this already strange day. He’d just started to unbutton her shirt, kissing her deeply, where there was a knocking at the door. Mulder got up and pulled it open. His gasp sent her to her feet and they stood staring at the deer nudging its antlers at the wood of the door.

“Rudolph?” Mulder said, stifling a giggle at the back of his hand.

“Dasher,” the big man said, appearing from nowhere and pulling at the animal’s antlers to move it away. “Rudolph has more manners.”

When Mulder closed the door, he gave her a look. “Did that just happen?”

“Maybe,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse, “but we can worry about that later. Right now, Mulder, I think we need to finish what we started.”

His touch was everywhere, whispering kisses at her neck, chin, breastbone, nipples, stomach, navel, thighs, ankles. He loved her entirely and completely. When he entered her, she burned around him, easing him deeper with gentle movements until she was used to the feeling. His bristled chin worked at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, setting her nipples to tight buds. One hand squeezed her ass, pressing the cheeks together so that his burgeoning thrusts felt tighter, harder.

“Mulder,” she said, barely able to get the words out. “This feels right.”

He issued a half-laugh and kissed her full on the mouth. “I believe,” he said, smiling down at her, “that you are right, Scully.”

“It’s about time,” she said and arched her back as he moved with renewed vigour.

Arousal rippled through her in waves and she cried out reflexively as she came. He looked down at her with such awe. Mulder had the most expressive face when he wanted to and in that moment she felt love like never before. There was something so tender about the small breaths he was taking.

“Come for me, Mulder,” she whispered and nuzzled the soft hairs on his chest.

He moaned and shuddered and collapsed on her, sheen with sweat. They lay like that for a while before she had to shift. That was when she discovered he still had his socks on. She pushed at one with her toes and he giggled into her neck.

“Sorry.” His voice was muffled against her chin and his giggles tickled.

“I’ll let you off this time,” she said, pushing him off her so he could right his wrong.

He hung them over the crate and hopped back into the bed, pulling her tight to his chest. He stroked her arm gently as she felt fatigue pull at her eyes.

“Scully,” he said quietly.

“Yes, Mulder.”

“Elvis played a Gibson J-200 guitar for his 1968 Comeback Special.”

She smiled in the darkness, content to listen to the strange sounds of the property. Scraping, tapping, whinnying, thudding, clattering. As she drifted further towards sleep, she thought she heard a tinkling of bells. But, it was probably just something in the air.


End file.
